


The End of The Line

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Established Relationship, M/M, Not A Happy Ending, needed to get this off my chest, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 17:10:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5214029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After all this time, Steve found him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End of The Line

**2015**  
"He's here, Steve," Sam's voice crackles over the microphone. "Your Bucky's here."

Steve feels a part of him collapse, and months and months of low sleep too much driving crash down on his body. Exhaustion sweeps over him, engulfing his heart, his soul, his essence. "I'm coming in. Status?" And yeah, Steve's voice cracks. The only people who can hear him are the only people who don't care. 

And Steve hears it, that pause, the hesitation over the empty com. "Alive. Pulse is weak, but present," And Steve's never been so glad to hear Sharon's voice, not even when she told him a locator had a handle on The Winter Solider.

A signal comes through on the GPS, and Natasha rotates the car around. "Does Phantom Ranch hotel mean anything to you?" she questions.

Steve looks at the screen and the slight curl of his lips falls away. "Yeah," he mutters, "It's next to the Grand Canyon."  
________________

When the pull up to the hotel, which by all means should be closed, Steve knows they're too late. Sam's face is dark, his head hung slightly. When Steve asks the status, he shakes his head brokenly. Running to the huddle of SHIELD doctors, he pushes through them and collapses on the ground next to Bucky.

His head is bleeding, left side barren of any metal. "What happened?" Steve snapped at a young agent, his vision focused on Bucky's closed eyes.

He hears the young man gulp, and his voice is shaky when he says, "Hydra. They were gone before we got here. I'm sorry, Captain, there's nothing we can do,"

Steve closes his eyes before amplifying his voice. "Clear out. I don't want anyone in this vicinity who isn't cleared by either Agent Romanoff or Wilson," he commands. When nobody moves, his voice hardens. "Now."

Within 45 seconds it's just him clutching Bucky's slack hand.

________________

**1940**

It's a cold winter night, and Bucky was sent home early from the docks because no one wanted to be there if no ships were coming in. Collecting his measly check from Mr. Stalls, he walks home in the snow, picking up a few apples for Steve and him before heading home. When he slips into their bedroom, he sees Steve curled up underneath a pile of thin blankets. Smiling to himself, Bucky strips of his windbreaker and kicks off his shoes. He slips under the covers, warping his longer body around Steve's. Steve presses into him and makes a small noise.

"Stalls close up early?" he asks, voice muffled.

Bucky makes a sound in the back of his throat and threads his fingers between Steve's. "Cold," was all he said, knowing Steve would understand.

The smaller man turns his body so that his nose is pressed against Bucky's cold throat. 

"Damn."

Bucky nods, Steve's lips coming to rest on his Adam's apple. "Got ridda Joey from Jersey, he pissed 'im off too much,"

"Was Joey the one who broke my wrist?"

Bucky smiles, rubbing at Steve's back. "In return he got a broken nose, sweetheart,"

Steve chortles quietly, sliding his foot between Bucky's calves. "Gah! You really are cold,"

Bucky huffs, "Didn't believe me, punk?" he challenges, humor and affection coming out softly.

Steve brushes back Bucky's hair, lightly massaging his scalp. "Always, Buck. 'Til the end of the line."

_________________

**2015**

_This is it,_ Steve realizes, _This is the end of the line_. The air of truth around that thought tears him apart from the inside out. Bucky's eyes had fluttered open briefly, but Steve didn't think he saw anything. He might never see anything again.

"I'm here, Bucky. i love you, I'm here, and I'm never leaving," Steve's grip tightens, "You know, you can't leave me like this. You always promised you'd die after me, Bucky, so that you'd never have to live without me. What am I gonna do with nothing but a memory of you, huh?" 

Bucky's eyes flutter open again, and this time they stay open. A slight smile curves at his lips when he breathes out, "You'll get off to that memory," and his eyes close again.

"No," Steve mutters, "James Buchanan Barnes, your ma would smack you if those where your last words, so they aren't. Come on, baby, say something. You're with me, and I'm not going anywhere."

Again, Bucky smiles. "Course you're not. 'Til, the end of line remember?"

"Yeah," Steve whispers, tears escaping, "How could I forget?" And that's when Bucky stops squeezing back, when Steve's left hand stops feeling a semi-steady beat.

And Steve cries, his entire world falling apart. Everything he knows flashes before him, and hurricanes and blizzard scream behind his eyelids. Never in a million years did Steve think he could die before his heart stops beating.

Vaguely, Steve feels a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Steve, God, I'm so sorry," And Steve lets Sam pull him up, lets someone open a car door for him, lets the same doctor from before direct all the EMT's to the soldier's body. 

________________

When they get back to New York, he sits Sam down at his kitchen table and spills. He tells about words lost in endless New York nights, about stories told against sweaty skin and kisses pressed to bruised lips. Steve tells stories about dance halls and strong drinks, and about how he always had Bucky, even when his mom died, even when he had pneumonia for the third time, even when Steve hadn't sold a painting for three months he still had Bucky. Sam's there while he talks about how short the line was, and how Steve would give anything for Bucky back. Sam's there, and he's stable and the closest thing to home since 1945.

But, God, he's not Bucky, and Steve hates Buck for leaving him and he hates Hydra and he hates that young doctor for not helping and he hates Natasha for not driving fast enough but mostly Steve hates himself because he should never have fallen in love with the whirlwind that was Bucky Barnes.

**Author's Note:**

> this hurt to write


End file.
